


Hold me close till we are one

by Sapphire (Moonlightflower)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (barely) sub Ratchet, Angst, Declarations Of Love, Feeding Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Spark Merging, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlightflower/pseuds/Sapphire
Summary: When Ratchet invites Drift over for the evening, he has something diffrent in mind than usual. This night is going to be special. And if everything goes well, it'll be the next step in their relationship. If things go according to plan, that is...
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Comments: 54
Kudos: 62





	Hold me close till we are one

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend dared me to write Transformers smut and then made it his wish for Christmas, so, naturally, I wrote him one. I hope you'll like this :D And Shadow, consider this your gift too! Thank you for being such a loyal reader and for being my transformers discussing buddy ;) I hope I'll continue to live up to your praise.
> 
> I don't really have much experience with this, so any kind of constructive criticsm is very welcome.
> 
> Other than that, Merry Christmas everyone!
> 
> Enjoy :)

The knock rang through the hab suite like every time and Ratchet couldn’t help but smile. Normally he would frown at being disturbed this late in the evening but there was only one mechanism on this ship that would knock on his door, rather than using his door chime. Something about the spiritualism of a tangible connection. And despite this irritatingly strong belief in auras and whatnot, this mechanism was always welcome, especially today. Ratchet cast a last look around his quarters to make sure everything was in place. The floor was, for once, uncluttered, his desk moved to the far end of the room and a large heating tarp graciously spread out on the floor. The fact that it was heated was more due to Ratchet having grabbed the first thing his medbay had provided, but it doubled nicely as a private floor heater. On the tarp, carefully arranged in a way to ensure it caught optics, lay a bottle of engex and Drift’s favorite energon goodies. Ratchet’s smile took on a besotted edge as he thought of the almost child-like giddiness that the treats never failed to evoke in his partner. And if Drift practically begged him to feed him with the tiny cubes, well, who was he to deny him.

_ Not like I could ever say no to you… Not when you look at me like I’m your precious Primus himself. _

Ratchet had no doubt that if he ever asked, Drift would vehemently deny it, but knowing that he managed to get Drift to look at him like he would when praying, if only for a second, filled him with a spark-deep joy. The fact that Drift, young, immensely beautiful, more curves than angles and oh so bright Drift actually returned his affections still baffled him on his best days. His steps to the door automatically faltered for a second, before Ratchet forcibly banned his ever-flickering doubts into a faraway corner of his mind. He was not about to let his own insecurities ruin this evening for them. He’d deal with them later.

Venting in deep, Ratchet offlined his optics for a second before exventing and sending the command for the door to open. Behind it stood Drift, trademark grin plastered on his face and warmth shining in his optics. The grin immediately softened as his optics found Ratchet’s and the medic could feel his faceplates heat at the pure affection that shone in them. Trying to escape the intensity of the gaze, Ratchet focused away from Drifts optics and on his partner’s frame. 

Big mistake. 

_ Oh, Primus help me… _

Drift was absolutely gorgeous on a normal day but now? A small part of Ratchet’s processor kept pinging him to step aside and let Drift come in, but a much larger part was occupied with juggling keeping himself from drooling and stopping his servos from simply reaching out and  _ touching _ . Drift was all sleek curves and glossy plating and positively gleaming. Ratchet absently realized he must have bribed someone to get the fancy wax and then spent hours applying it. Where Ratchet would normally call him beautiful, stunning even, he now lacked the words to eloquently describe what he was feeling. His engine gave an involuntary rev at the thought of touching the smooth surface, exploring the texture, maybe not only with his servos... Fancy wax did taste oh so wonderful when it was combined with charge…

A different thought sent icy water over the growing heat within his frame. He let his gaze drop to his own finish. Dull paint, a few scratches here and there, the lingering smell of disinfectant. He suddenly felt woefully inadequate, not to mention underdressed for the occasion.

_ Frag. I should have at least bothered with more than a quick wash-down after shift! Idiot! _

Drift, who so far had waited patiently for Ratchet to finish gaping and to step aside, slowly started fidgeting under Ratchet’s scrutinizing gaze. Under any other circumstances, this was the face that told mechs to get running if they wanted to keep their frames intact. He’d been at the receiving end often enough and he was, quite frankly, not about to risk a wrench to his helm.

“Hey… Ratch, can I… come in?”

It ended up sounding more like a hesitant question than the teasing remark he had intended it to be but it did the trick all the same. Ratchet visibly jolted back to awareness, his optics focusing back on Drift’s in an instant. He couldn’t hide the slight embarrassment in his field, as he finally stepped aside to let the other into his habsuite.

“Sure, kid. Heh, sorry.”

Stepping in with almost unnatural grace, Drift smiled at Ratchet, managing to look happy, unsure and confident at the same time. Ratchet found it quite endearing. His smile softened as he gently grasped the younger bot’s servo and laced their digits together, pulling him close. Drift’s optics took on a mischievous glint, as he let one of his digits trace Ratchet’s ever so lightly. The medic shuddered, clamping his mouth shut to keep a premature moan inside. Medic servos were very, veeery sensitive… A fact Drift took great delight in and regularly exploited. But he didn’t want this to be just another night of passion, as much as he loved every one fo them. This night was special. Apparently, he hesitated a moment too long because Drift started pulling back, field teeking with worry and confusion.

“Something wrong, Ratch? Should I leave?”

“No!”

The reply was instant and Ratchet internally cringed at the almost-despair ringing in his words. He coughed awkwardly, all the while tightening his grip on the other’s servos, optics never leaving Drift’s.

“Never. Never that, Drift.”

The words were little more than a hoarse whisper, but they rang with a finality that had the tension visibly drain from Drift’s frame as the swordsmech let himself slump against Ratchet’s shoulder with a shudder. Almost on instinct, Ratchet’s servos traced meaningless paths up Drift’s sides to his finials, gently caressing the appendage and smiling when it earned him a purr. With a quick glance behind him, he maneuvered them over to where the tarp still lay and gently tipped Drift backward, until the mech landed in the pillows with a squeal. The confusion quickly turned into elation when Drift’s optics found the goodies and Ratchet chuckled as he plopped down beside him, quickly drawing Drift back into his arms.

“Surprise -”

Before he could finish Drift had already spun around in his lap, pulling him into a messy kiss that was all fangs and glossa and oh so delicious. This time Ratchet didn’t bother to hide the moan, smirking at the blushing Drift and giving him a small peck on the lips before slightly disentangling them to reach for the engex. The small reprieve gave him time to steel himself. 

He still had a question to ask.

As he poured the clear liquid into two crystal goblets and handed one over to Drift, he could feel his calm slowly fading. There was a tremor running through his servos when Drift took the goblet from him, digits brushing his in a gentle caress. The trembling didn’t cease. He could feel Drift’s gaze growing in intensity and quietly swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Not that I mind, Ratch, but… What’s the occasion?”

There it was again, that barest flicker of uncertainty in Drift’s field and Ratchet belatedly realized he had forgotten to reign in his own, clearly broadcasting his feelings for Drift to feel. The medic automatically started fiddling with his goblet, confidence rapidly deserting him. Still, he forced himself to vent calmly and look up at his partner who was still smiling at him, hesitantly encouraging, expectant.

_ There’s no reason to be afraid! This is Drift. We already know each other in and out. This will be no different. It won’t change anything, even if he says no…  _

So why was he still trembling? No matter how hard he tried, his vocalizer refused to cooperate. He had to forcibly override it to finally manage to speak the words that had been weighing on his spark ever since he had invited Drift over for this evening. The words were shaking as he finally managed to speak them.

“Drift. Will you merge with me?”

Drift froze, visibly faltering and the arm that he’d been reaching for a goodie with dropping to his side with an audible clang. Agonizing seconds of silence filled the space between them, stretching on, each one ringing louder than the last and Ratchet had to stop himself from pulling away, quelching the urge to flee the situation. The other was staring at him with too bright optics – shock, his inner medic unhelpfully supplied – and Ratchet found himself quietly praying (hah!) that he hadn’t just ruined this relationship.

_ Idiot! I shouldn’t have asked! I mean, why would he- _

A choked vent cut through his raging inner thoughts and his entire focus snapped back to Drift. Who was crying. Silent tears running over his cheeks, one after the other, his gaze so uncertain. So afraid. Only now did Ratchet register the whirlwind of emotions in the other’s field. It was his turn to freeze, staring at Drift in shock.

“You really want to… To merge? With  _ me _ ? After everything I…”

Understanding hit him like a truck and he instantly darted forward, pulling the other tight against his plating as the silent tears turned into quiet sobs.

“Drift…”

His voice was hoarse, he didn’t know what to say. In all the times he had thought about how this evening could go, he had never once imagined this.

_ I’m such an idiot! _

He slowly began caressing Drift’s back again, the motion meant to reassure but Drift shook his servos off, trembling.

“This ain’t pretty, Ratch!” 

The change in dialect hit something deeply buried within Ratchet, a moment of mixed pity and fear, but he stomped it back down, clutching Drift all the tighter.

“You’re not Deadlock anymore. Nor the addict from the Dead End.”

“BUT I WAS! This is a merge, Ratchet! You’ll still see them, you’ll feel it, you’ll-“

A quiet sob cut through the panicked rant and Drift all but clung to him. Ratchet felt like an energon-dagger was being twisted in his spark.

“I know, Drift. I know.”

“You’ll hate me…”

He sounded so small and scared. Ratchet felt helpless.

“I won’t, Drift. I promise. Not because of this!”

Drift stared up at him then, optics so full of desperate hope, and yet, guarded. He looked so much like the addict with his processor half blown to pieces, laying in his clinic and looking at him like he could save him right then. Ratchet nearly cried.

“You used to…”

Drift’s voice had been reduced to nothing but a broken whisper. The medic had no answer to that, other than holding Drift tighter, chest to chest, spark to spark. He gently let his digits trace the curve of Drift’s chin, tipping it up with a care he usually reserved for trauma victims. In a way, this was exactly that.

“Drift, look at me.”

He pressed a small kiss to the other’s lips, field as reassuring as possible.

“That was a long time ago. And even then I cared for you. I may not have fully known it, but I did.”

He let the words sink in, quietly keeping up his soothing motions on Drift’s back and allowing the other to calm down from one of his worse panic attacks. 

_ It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those… _

A small part of him still felt guilty for not having thought of this possibility, for not having reacted better, but a much larger part of him was simply relieved that it hadn’t gotten much worse. Drift’s venting slowly settled __ back to its normal rhythm and the sobs returned to the occasional silent tear. Ratchet slowly leaned in, careful to project his intentions and to give Drift the time to pull away, before gently kissing the tear streaks from his face, again and again, until Drift had mostly calmed again. The death-grip with which he had clung to Ratchet slowly eased back to a comfortable hold, prompting Ratchet to relax his own grip. Not much, just enough so that he could bring a little distance between them and clearly look Drift in the optics. Drift’s field had mostly calmed down as well, now teeking a mix of gratitude and shame.

“Hey…”

After such a long stretch of relative silence, that single word seemed like a snap back to reality. Drift froze again, for the fraction of a second, before averting his optics, drawing his field in tight and starting to pull away. His voice sounded strained as he began to stammer apologies.

“I’m so sorry Ratchet. I didn’t mean to ruin your evening… I just-”

Drift made to get up but Ratchet didn’t let him, forcefully pulling him back into his lap and holding him tightly.

“Drift, you didn’t ruin anything! If anything this is my fault. I should have thought of this…”

At that, Drift seemed to shrink in on himself even further and Ratchet quickly backpedaled.

“Look, kid, all I’m saying is that it’s okay. We’re okay. You didn’t ruin anything. How about we just forget that this happened and start over? The night is still young and I’d hate for those goodies to go to waste…”

Finally, if still a bit cautious, Drift seemed to relax again. Ratchet wisely not commented on how the speedster’s servos still clung to his shoulders and simply reached for the box of treats instead, offering one to Drift. Drift seemed to take it for the silent apology it was because as he quietly chewed on it, the tension once more seemed to leave him and he allowed the barest edges of his field to intertwine with Ratchet’s again. He was still teeking caution, but as long as he wasn’t outright panicking anymore Ratchet counted it as a win. He continued his ministrations, finding all the spots where Drift’s cables were still tense and gently massaging them. The action earned him a content sigh and Drift’s field opened further. Ratchet smiled as he only detected the barest hint of an apology in it. 

_ Good… Don’t beat yourself up about your past… We’ve all suffered enough already without tearing open old wounds. _

Drift appeared to be finally fully relaxing again, allowing himself to melt into the gentle massage and Ratchet could feel the exact moment that his partner finally let go. Drift’s helm hit Ratchet’s shoulder with an audible clang and the swordsmech let out a quiet chuckle, bringing up his servos to rest on Ratchet’s hips.

“Way to go and wreck the mood, huh?”

Ratchet couldn’t help but grin at the slightly teasing tone he detected.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I rather like how you’re currently melting…”

He made sure that Drift was able to hear the affection in it, internally delighting in the slight blush his words brought to Drift’s faceplates and allowing himself to bask in the newly found calm for a few moments before an idea crossed his mind. 

_ If it’s the mood you’re worried about… _

Ratchet’s smirked as he reached for the box of goodies, pulling out one that he knew Drift adored. The tiny square of gelled energon with mercury crisps and a rust core was the perfect size to hold between his thumb and forefinger. Drift’s optics visibly brightened at the sight of the treat, his entire frame unconsciously growing lax, ready to do whatever Ratchet wanted. The medic grinned, as he slowly let the tip of his glossa run over the top of the treat, savoring the slightly acidic taste and the whine that the action involuntarily drew from Drift. 

_ So eager…  _

Taking a few seconds to enjoy the sight before him, Ratchet finally gave in and gently grasped Drift’s chin, angling it up towards him before gently taking the treat between his teeth and leaning down. Drift’s lips met his in a cacophony of sweetness and acid of the treat and that unique taste that was all Drift. He could feel Drift snaking the treat with his glossa and quickly captured it before it could retreat back into his mouth with its prize. At the same time, his servos went back to the remaining goodies, picking up the next one. Calculating the movement so that it was timed just right, Ratchet drew back and immediately replaced his lips with the goodie on Drift’s lips. The speedster licked his lips, opening them to draw the treat in, together with Ratchet’s digits. A shudder went through him at the sensation of a smooth glossa circling one of them, purposefully dragging over it. 

_ So very sensitive… _

Ratchet moaned, digit involuntarily chasing after the retreating glossa, only for Drift to pull Ratchet’s servo from his mouth and rolling the sensitive digit between his own, alternating the pressure. Drift was smirking and that small show of confidence alone was enough to make Ratchet’s cooling fans turn on.

“You’re beautiful like this…”

He didn’t care that the words brought a violent blush to his faceplates, the way Drift’s optics turned incredibly soft for a moment and that shy little smile were worth every embarrassment. Especially when Drift took another goodie, laying it on Ratchet’s servo and picking it up with his lips, purposefully swirling his glossa to clean all sticky traces from Ratchet’s palm. Ratchet let him, allowing himself to completely fall into the sensation for a while before gently drawing his servo away and reaching for the goodies again. For a mech with Drift’s history, fuel was one of the most precious gifts one could give. They’d figured out early on that using it during foreplay quickly got Drift’s fans spinning. And since Ratchet loved to care for others, preferably when they didn’t  _ need _ him to but of his own volition, feeding Drift little treats, snacks or sometimes just plain simple energon had become a thing they both greatly enjoyed. Add in medic servos and Ratchet was in heaven. From the way Drift moaned around the next treat, offlining his optics in pure bliss, so was he. Ratchet smiled. He would never tire of seeing Drift like this. Relaxed, content, happy.  _ Revved up. _

He wouldn’t lie, watching Drift melt around the taste of a simple treat, a treat that  _ Ratchet _ had given him, was incredibly hot. His fans kicked up a notch and he could hear the whirr of Drift’s fans following suit. A quiet storm that was growing in intensity, painting a perfect picture of both their states of arousal. Drift’s grin was a mix of stupidly happy and sly as he leaned forward and captured Ratchet’s lips again, twining their glossae together and making sure Ratchet got the aftertaste of the last treat. Ratchet allowed himself to submit, allowing Drift to battle his glossa into his own mouth and letting the other explore. He secretly loved it when his partner took charge. The knowledge that for once he wasn’t responsible, that he could let go and completely give himself over to another bot’s mercy never failed to send a quiet thrill down his struts. He half suspected that this particular kink had been born sometime around the time everybody had started to look at him as the last resort who always fixed everything, even though that was hardly the truth. That fact almost made him resent it, a reminder of pain and loss and everlasting pressure that he’d never been able to shake off. But then Drift would look at him like that, with absolute faith and understanding and he’d tell Ratchet what to do. No risk of failing, not on his servos. It was the only time he was ever truly able to let go.

Drift’s servos had started wandering up his sides, teasingly tracing transformation seams with the lightest of touches before withdrawing, leaving Ratchet’s frame tingling with the rising charge. Drift drew back, only slightly, visibly taking delight in the way Ratchet’s vents were ragged and the way his frame was growing hot as his fans started failing to dispell the heat. The satisfied smirk he wore, that absolute confidence in his actions as he brought Ratchet’s servo back to his lips again and drew digit after digit into his mouth was nearly too much. Ratchet offlined his optics and lost himself in the sensation, in the tingle that quickly progressed into pleasure as liquid fire began running through his coolant lines. He could feel his frame growing hotter and hotter as Drift sucked on his digits, dragging his glossa over the underside while scraping his teeth over the top and then he did something incredible with his lips at the base of his servo that had Ratchet see stars. His moan was nearly drowned out by the sound of their cooling fans that were desperately trying to dispell the heat. He could feel his valve throbbing with need, the stimulation causing lubricant to gather behind the panel. He was close. Drift seemed to read him like an open book because he increased the pressure of his administrations on his servo, mirroring his glossa with his digits on the other servo, before switching between both and creating a rhythm that ping-ponged between both his servos. Ratchet could feel his overload approaching fast, nearly screaming when Drift circled the sensitive tips of his digits. The feeling was intoxicating.

“Let go for me.”

Drift’s voice was husky and took over the last strands of processing power Ratchet had left. With a shout, he overloaded, charge crackling through his frame and transfluid mixing with lubricant behind his panels. Drift smirked, as he gentled his administrations to help Ratchet down from his high. The medic panted, fans roaring to draw in cool air and cool his frame a little but Drift didn’t let him as he slowly, tantalizingly let his digits wander down to Ratchet’s panel.

“Open?”

He hadn’t fully spoken the request when Ratchet’s panel snapped open at an embarrassing speed, drenching Drifts servo in the gathered fluids and drawing a moan from Ratchet as cool air hit his outer folds. Drift let a single digit slowly trace the soft mesh, testing, teasing, drawing a whimper from Ratchet. He wanted more, needed to feel the other inside him. His valve felt painfully empty. Drift tsked at his needy whine, withdrawing his digit for a second, only to slowly start peppering kisses down Ratchet’s frame.

“Eager, are we?”

Ratchet whined, the teasing glossa tracing his seams and traveling lower, lower, but never where he wanted it,  _ needed  _ it. His frame was nearing critical heat levels when Drift finally relented, closing his lips over Ratchet’s anterior node and sucking. Ratchet’s hips bucked involuntarily, chasing friction that wasn’t there. Drift chuckled and the vibration made Ratchet scream in ecstasy. Drift used his moment of distraction to draw one digit through Ratchet’s folds, gently teasing the opening and letting the tip of his digit sink in. Ratchet’s calipers instantly clamped down, trying to draw the appendage in deeper and drawing a strangled hiss from the medic. The friction felt good, but it wasn’t nearly enough, one digit not even close to the spike he was craving. 

“Want you inside me… Now.”

His words were mangled by a moan but he made sure to project the near painful arousal in his field. He needed friction.

“Alright, Sweetspark. Vent for me. That’s right, in, out. Dispell some of that heat.”

Ratchet whined as Drift added a second digit, gently circling the rim before readily sinking in, parting the mesh with ease. For a few moments, Ratchet sighed in bliss, before the liquid fire returned when Drift began scissoring his digits, carefully widening the radius each time he did it and making sure to not overstrain Ratchet’s calipers. It was a sweet gesture of care, but to Ratchet it was torture. The sensations were enough to bring him close to the edge, so close he could almost taste the overload, but it was never quite enough. The third digit met a little resistance when Drift tried pushing it alongside the other two, but with carefully applied pressure, it went in as well. The medic part of Ratchet knew that this was necessary to prevent injuries, but at that moment he found that he didn’t care if his valve tore or not. The constant thrum of pleasure that was just on this side of painful was slowly becoming too much for him to handle.

“Please…”

He whimpered, words nearly failing him.

“Need you…”

Drift nodded, slowly withdrawing his digits. The sound of a spike panel clicking open was music to Ratchet’s audials. Not seconds after the blunt tip was nestled against the rim of his valve, drawing another wrecked moan from Ratchet and a groan from Drift as the other slowly began to sink in. Even now, Ratchet could feel the care with which the other measured his movements, focus intent on not causing Ratchet any harm. Ratchet let his servos wander back over his back, sending gentle magnetic pulses through the plating and working his way up towards the finials. Drift shuddered, nudging his spike a little deeper and drawing a mewl from Ratchet in turn. The stretch stung a little, but at that moment Ratchet couldn’t care less. His servos found Drift's finials again and he sent a short, strong mag pulse through them, drawing Drift’s face down to swallow his moan in a kiss. He could feel the strain the other was putting himself through to hold still and let Ratchet adjust.

_ Cute… _

“You’re nothing I can’t handle, kid. Don’t hold back.”

Drift smiled at him then, a teasing glint in his optics as he moved ever so slightly, making sure to drag his spike over every node he could reach.

“So impatient… You’ll have to wait till I deem you ready though. I’m  _ not _ going to hurt you.”

The conviction with which he said those words let Ratchet’s spark spin faster in his chest. For a few seconds, he felt like it was going to escape and try to reach for its other half, despite their earlier discussion. He just barely managed to override the command for his chest plates to open. In his moment of distraction, Drift had started moving, slowly thrusting with increasing movement, drawing out a little further and pushing back in a little deeper each time. Ratchet couldn’t do much more than hold onto Drift’s shoulders and kiss him senseless, desperate to convey the pleasure that was racing through his lines and to give it back to Drift. The air between them was practically crackling with electricity, sizzling over their frames and causing the first fans to fail from the strain. For once in his functioning, failing systems were the last thing on Ratchet’s mind as he let go of the last strands of control. Drift picked up his pace, changing his angle and lighting new nodes on fire with every thrust. Ratchet felt his calipers gripping the spike tighter, drawing him in deeper, holding him there. Through the heat of a particularly strong thrust that managed to graze his ceiling node, Ratchet onlined his optics and caught Drift’s gaze. He was met with utter adoration and unfiltered love, and the sheer amount of affection finally overrode Ratchet’s commands to keep his chest plates closed.

_ Primus, Drift I love you. _

He only noticed what he’d done when Drift’s thrusts nearly stilled, the other mech staring at him in awe. The soft glow of Ratchet’s spark reflected in his optics as Drift lifted a servo, almost in trance, and slowly, ever so carefully reached for the pulsing light. Tendrils shot out, seeking a connection that wasn’t there and wrapping around Drift’s digits instead. The sensation was unlike anything Ratchet had ever experienced. Sure, he had spark merged before, but never had any mech touched his bare spark with digits. It felt strange, but not in a bad way, and when Drift gently drew one of his digits over the edge of the chamber Ratchet roared. Overload hit him out of nowhere like a tidal wave and Ratchet was happily pulled under. His calipers clamped down on Drift’s spike, causing the other to buck his hips and lighting even more sensors on fire. He half registered Drift picking up the pace again, thrusts coming hard and rough as the swordsmech chased his own overload. Ratchet tried to help him along by rhythmically clenching and unclenching his valve but he lost all concentration when Drift’s digits carded through the outer corona of his spark. It was more on accident than anything but the sensation had Ratchet seeing stars and sent him careening right into the next overload. 

Drift repeated the action, timing it with his increasing thrusts and when Ratchet leaned up to nip on one of Drift’s finials, drawing the long appendage into his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle his cries, a shudder went through Drift. The speedster seemed to freeze for a moment, before arching his backstruts, involuntarily drawing his finial from Ratchet’s mouth and overloading with a roar that left Ratchet’s audials ringing. He could feel hot waves of transfluid hitting the back of his valve, teasing his ceiling node and drawing another weak moan from him. His voice had gotten hoarse with all the screaming. He gently drew his servos back up Drift’s backstruts, tracing meaningless glyphs into them as Drift slowly came down from his high. He looked beautiful like that, backstruts arched in a sharp curve, optics nearly whited out from pleasure and mouth hanging open. Drift seemed frozen in that position while Ratchet gently stroked him down from his high until in his post overlead haze, Drift slumped on top of him, nearly crushing Ratchet and involuntarily bringing his closed chestplates right over Ratchet’s exposed spark chamber. The medic froze, his spark singing at feeling the other so close, tendrils shooting out and desperately trying to worm their way through Drift’s closed chest seam. The action drew a shuddering moan from Drift and Ratched didn’t dare to move, lest he break the moment.

Drift’s optics were still offline, but he could feel his frame tensing up again as his processor no doubt caught up with what was happening. His optics snapped online with a flash and he stared down between them, were Ratchet’s spark was still trying to get to his. 

“Ratchet?”

Drift’s voice held a small tremor, though if it was from the post overload strain or fear was impossible to tell. Ratchet didn’t dare to vent, simply looking up at Drift and not quite managing to keep the desperate hope out of his field. He was met with a wave of uncertainty and with a sigh made to reign in his spark when he caught it. It was barely there, blink and you’ll miss it, and yet, beneath all the layers of doubt Ratchet detected a wistful breeze of  _ want _ . Drift wanted this. Just as he did. At that moment Ratchet made his decision.

“Drift. I love you. Nothing you’ve been through or did is ever going to change that. Trust me on this.”

He could feel the other drawing in a shuddering vent as some of the uncertainty bled from his field. Not as much as Ratchet would have liked, but he supposed small steps were better than a standstill.

“You sure?”

Drift’s voice was still trembling, prompting Ratchet to bring his servos back up to Drift’s faceplates and gently caress his cheekstruts. Drift leaned into the caress, offlining his optics again when Ratchet filled his field with all the love and affection he could.

“Yes.”

That simple word seemed to be the final straw and Ratchet could hear the hiss of chestplates opening.

“Just… Please don’t hate me.”

The words were spoken so quiet, Ratchet almost thought he’d imagined them, but the vulnerability in Drift’s field was still there. Ratchet was certain it would have shone in his optics as well, had they not been offline. The medic watched in awe, as the smooth plates folded back to reveal the chamber beneath. He could see the flickering light of Drift’s spark shining through the seams as Drift hesitated and couldn’t help but reach out, letting his digits trace the chamber ever so gently. A shudder went through the swordsmech and his optics slowly onlined, looking at Ratchet with a fragile trust that Ratchet vowed to honor and protect. Then, with a last deep invent, Drift opened his chamber.

For a few seconds, Ratchet was fully transfixed by the bright glow that seemed to call to him. He’d seen many sparks during his time as a medic, more than he cared to remember, but this spark was special. A gift that he already cherished beyond reason. He barely realized it when tiny tendrils started reaching for his own, too amazed by the sight before him until the sensation of a pull caught him by surprise. Their tendrils found each other, connecting and drawing their sparks together, closer and closer, until their outer coronas touched. And then, they began sinking into each other. He could no longer tell where he ended and where Drift began. There was only them, together, one single being that was made of love. Ratchet could feel the uncertainty vanish as Drift gave himself over to the unfiltered affection and Ratchet made sure to shower him with all the love he had to give. They were still only merging their outer layers, not deep enough to share memories but enough to share emotion. For a first merge, it was plenty. Such a connection was special and to be savored, something to gently be explored a little more as their relationship grew. There was no need to rush this. Especially not with the happiness that was suddenly surrounding him, mixed with adoration and so much love. No matter how often they told each other how they felt, no matter how clearly they projected their feelings through their fields, this was infinitely more intimate. He could actually  _ feel _ their love, one giant feeling that was made from both of them and it filled him up to the brim. It was almost too large to contain, so much bigger than the both of them and Ratchet could feel his charge climbing when he felt Drift agree. It had been eons since his last merge, he had almost forgotten how amazing it felt to share his life force with another. To lose all sense of time and direction and forget that anything existed outside of  _ them _ . The thought sent a thrill through him and he could feel Drift shudder as their charge climbed and climbed with each wave of love that they pulsed through the connection. He almost didn’t notice it when one particularly strong burst of emotion sent him over, pulling Drift over the edge with him. They were both too lost in the sensation to realize that one was crying out, that the other was clutching their servos together. They were simply swept along by the wave of pure energy and let it carry them. Time lost all meaning as they slumped down on the tarp, knocking over the empty crystal goblets and creating a tangle of limbs, tarp and pillows that neither bothered to do anything about. He barely noticed when the connection slowly faded, their tendrils becoming weaker as their sparks slowly let go of each other, breaking the merge when their chest plates closed. 

Ratchet knew he was wearing a stupidly besotted grin as he untangled one of his servos from Drift’s, bringing it up to gently caress the seam that hid Drift’s greatest treasure behind it.

“I love you.”

He could see Drift smile, full of surprise and almost giddy.

“Love you too, Ratch.”

They simply continued laying there, lovingly gazing into each other’s optics and basking in the afterglow of a spectacular overload. Ratchet had no idea how long they lay there, cuddled together with no room between them and drinking in each other’s warmth as their frames slowly began to cool down. After a while, Drift shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Ratchet a little better.

“Can we do that again?”

Ratchet did nothing to hold back the grin that broke loose on his face then and he drew Drift in for a passionate kiss with a quiet laugh.

“Always, sweetspark. As often as you want.”

He could feel the elation in Drift’s field as the other snuggled into him even more, bringing their frames as close as they could get with the sparks hidden away. 

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

Drift’s smile was incredibly soft as he let his hands trace Ratchet’s side.

“Careful what you promise me though. If it’s always like that we’ll never stop.”

Ratchet smiled at that, the sentiment filling him with warmth and letting his spark spin faster. He nodded, burying his face in Drift’s neck cables and bringing his arms up around his back. He could feel the other’s systems slowly cycling down as Drift began to slip into recharge. He could feel the enticing call pulling on him as well, his optics slowly offlining as he huddled the heating tarp around them to cover their rapidly cooling frames. With a happy little sigh, he allowed his systems to slowly follow Drift’s into the world of dreams. The smile never left his lips as he silently whispered his answer, before completely cycling down.

“Never…”

**Author's Note:**

> So... What did you think? If there is anything you think I should add to the tags feel free to tell me :)


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